Fear
by SparrowCries
Summary: Let the the hope stay dim and let the fear burn on. Let the fear overcome you, let it twist you until you don't recognize yourself anymore. "The fear of death often proves mortal, and sets people on methods to save their lives. Which infallibly destroys them." Let the 38th Hunger Games begin
1. Chapter 1 Fear

FEAR: the 38th Hunger Games

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><p>GAME MAKER<p>

FARRIS COLDWELL

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><p>"What are you planning?" The curious voice pesters Farris as he watches the overview of the most recent Games. He looks down from the television to his six year-old son, Julius, the familiar blue eyes that the boy had inherited from his father peered up at him. Farris' weakness.<p>

His lips stretch upwards just the slightest in a pitiful smile.

"What do you mean?" Farris asks the little boy, knowing very well what Julius was asking. He wraps his arms around Julius and pulls him up onto his lap.

"You know what daddy." Julius pouts stubbornly, his arms crossed.

Farris smirks at his son's reaction, in many ways Julius had gotten these sorts of traits from him. Farris knows he will grow up to be successful, if he is anything like his father. It pleases him.

"What do you see in common with the tributes each year?" Farris asks his son, glancing to a recap of the countdown from last year on the TV, His ninth Arena as Gamemaker. He knew it has a bit much to expect a six year-old to start questioning the emotions of teenagers in such a situation, but this is no average child. Julius is the son of Farris Coldwell, as he approaches his tenth year as Gamemaker he breaks the record of longest time in the position. It rarely is a long-term job; the President gets tiresome quite easily.

But Farris sees himself to be above that. He is different.

And so is Julius.

Julius' face crinkles up in thought. He stares at each tribute intently with his little mind cranking through ideas.

"They are scared daddy." Julius says in realization as the camera flashes to an outlying District girl in tears.

Farris smiles, the widest he has smiled in a long time. In response Julius does the same, enjoying the positive reaction from the father he admired so strongly.

"Yes, they are scared." Farris says.

"What does that have to do with the Arena?" Julius asks.

Farris laughs, "everything."

"How?"

"Fear is beautiful, a piece of art. And the Arena will be the same, it will be designed to make the tributes _scared._" It was his tenth year, silly as it is Farris was feeling sentimental about it.

There is a reason he has lasted so long as Gamemaker, because he is scared. As scared as any District Two or One tribute gets in the Games, even if they find themselves so secure in victory. They still are scared, and if they aren't then they die.

Fear pushes you; it has pushed Farris to reign above the rest. To make the best and most complicated Arenas, because if he didn't then it would mean death. Some say it is hope, but like light and darkness there is no hope without fear.

It is beautiful.

Farris had heard stories of the people of hundred of years before Panem and their ideas of terror, it was the sort of thing only the most important had access to. Farris was important enough to know about the President's secret library. The ghost stories they had to add fear into their lives.

Fear. The Arena will be fear, he wasn't sure how but it was the only way to keep improving, to make his tenth special.

Everything the tributes ever feared had to be thrown together and mixed into a battleground, it had to be beautiful. Give its inspiration justice.

Let the hope stay dim, and let the fear burn on.

Let the fear overcome you.

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><p>DISTRICT EIGHT VICTOR:<p>

When you have nightmares, you wake up. The problem is when you can't wake up. And when you can't wake up from it, you shut your eyes and pretend to be somewhere pleasant. That is what they tell me at least, whenever it becomes too heavy for my weak shoulders.

But every time I close my eyes I see _them. _I see the scars they left. I see the blood.

There is no escape; no paradise to turn to. I can't run from the fear, because the nightmare is my reality. I _am_ the nightmare, and I can't escape myself.

There is a way.

I could end it all.

Then what? They kill my family and everything I've touched? Just because of what they made me, what I let them do to me.

It has been five years since I was sent to hell. The descent from heaven arrived on my sixteenth birthday. I was reaped. That was never supposed to happen. The wealth was supposed to protect me.

Money doesn't save you from demons, but give the demon your soul? That is how you survive. So handed my soul to the devil.

The devil sees no currency.

I close my eyes to escape the thoughts and like always I see him. The boy I was raised with. Never a friend, but he was a person. I slashed his throat. The blood stains my hands. I can't wash it away.

The soft and gentle hands of my newest caretaker guide me up from my chair. I'm like an old lady. A day seems to be a year and I feel a hundred. My feet slide across the hardwood floor with her help. She brings me to me first floor bedroom. My bed is covered in blood; no matter how much my caretaker washes the sheets the blood won't go away. She attempt to lie to me, says they are clean as snow. Bleach a thousand times over, she must think me to be blind.

I should fire her, but then I would have to hire another. With the Devil pulling into town tomorrow I don't have time to make last minute adjustments in my life.

When I'm done handing over two children to the gates of the pit of flames, I will fire her. All she does is lie. Says there is no blood.

What a liar.

She assists me with sitting down onto the bed and I move her hands away, and lay down. I adjust in my bed until I flip over to see a young looking girl, covered in scars and blood, staring at me from the wall. I scream and jump off my bed and take shelter in the corner.

"No mirrors, I told you no mirrors." I say behind the dark strands of hair that are matted to my face.

She looks surprised, almost scared, and for a moment I realize she can't be more than twenty. Only a little younger than me, but she hasn't seen what I have seen.

No one has, no one understands. Not even the other victors, no one gets it. Why can't they see what I see?

I whimper in the corner, my head resting in my hands. "Why can't anyone see the blood?"

_Chop off his head!_

_ Chop off his legs!_

_ Chop off his arms!_

_Everything must go._

_DEAD!_

The voices waltz around in my head, they laugh and cheer like drunk fools. The caretaker quickly takes the mirror and flips it over.

"I'm sorry." She says.

I bring myself to my feet and look in her eyes. Fear.

I know that look by heart.

Every night in my dreams I see those eyes, looking at me. Judging me.

I am afraid. I am fear. They all fear me; all their eyes judge me. I'm so afraid. So afraid, so lonely, they all died or left me because I am the fear that haunts them.

I am fear, and nothing escapes me.

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><p>Hello! Just a small intro, I always think the intro to syots are a bit lame in my opinion but regardless everything needs an intro and it is important just so you guys know how I write. Though even though the first bit is in 3rd, I write in 1st. I just decided to mix it up a bit by having the sort of average Gamemaker talk about Arena and then something "different" I guess.<p>

If I made any mistakes please tell me, I am really trying to improve my grammar and just overall correctness.

About myself: Not much, I've written SYOTS before, I have two finished SYOTS and two that for personal reasons I couldn't continue. But that was a while ago; I am back and ready to take time for this. I'm older and know how to handle things. I won't quit, I know why I did before and it won't happen again.

QUICK RULES:

I pick how the story goes and who will win (and how I choose the Victor), end of story (sorry just want to make sure that is clear)

No Mary/Gary-Sues obviously

No double submissions

If you submit please try to review, it is very much appreciated

Please submit through PM! Review submissions will not be taken, sorry I don't make the rules.

I would really prefer if you were to use my form, FORM ON MY PROFILE.

Thanks for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2 D7 Reapings:Called Out

_**Chapter One: Called Out**_

_**District Seven Reapings**_

** Ariel Morris, 18**

I wake up to birds chirping and the sun shining through my window at just the right angle to hit my face. The brightness startles me awake and the warmth from the light keeps me up. For a moment the day seems like every other morning, but I know what today is. How could I forget?

This will be the last time.

In one year this will all be over with.

I turned eighteen a few days ago, and like every year it just reminded me of the approaching Reapings. My twelfth birthday was the most miserable day of my life; because I knew what was coming. Ever since then, the constant feeling of dread on my birthday has always sort of ruined the day for me. But this one was better, because it is the last before I'm free.

But then the torment will start again as soon as Georgio turns twelve, he has seven years but I know it will go quickly.

If I get past today to see it.

My heart skips a beat with the depressing thought, I can't think of this any longer. So I force myself out of bed and run a brush through my long, dark brown hair, the red tints shine in the sunlight of the early morning. I don't spend much time with it, and when I'm done with my hair I push it behind my shoulders to keep it out of my face.

Deciding to change after breakfast, I walk barefooted to the kitchen where the rest of the family is already eating. The reapings have a sort of tradition to go along with it in my home. We eat breakfast, then get ready and met back up when its time to go and head down together to the Town Center before I leave them to meet up with my friends. Next year will be different, better I suppose.

"Hello Ariel," my mother says, walking out of the kitchen with a plate of food to put at my spot at the table. As she passes by me she gives me a kiss on the cheek. Usually we don't have such fancy breakfasts like what she has prepared for today, but everyone is a bit sentimental today.

"Morning mother," I say sitting down in the chair. My mouth waters at the sight of food, the realization of my hunger sits in. My mother hugs me from behind and kisses the top of my head again. Her blonde hair falls down onto my dark hair. She holds the position for a moment before going to get her own plate.

I find comfort in her motherly nature but can't help but feel her fear for me and it makes me worried, no I've made it this fair to get reaped.

My name has never been in there so many times.

Regardless I refuse to be weak about it, I need to be tough. If I am reaped I won't be helpless. Like many in District Seven, I've work at the sawmill from a young age. So it could be worse, I could be from a District like Twelve. They never win, reaped for them means automatic death.

I just try not to think about it.

My five year-old brother, Georgio, devours his meal from the other side of the table. He is a mixture of our parents. With our mother's blonde hair and our father's shortcut hair. But he has the strength and maturity that my father has. He understands the gravity of the day, something not all five year olds understand.

My father can be funny of course, but he knows how to be serious. He is a good father. I was blessed with my parents and I knew it. They cared, not everyone got that. He had the lumberjack look with the beard and moustache. I resembled him much more than my I do my mother, Our brown hair and brown eyes identical shades.

We say are good mornings to each other but soon after we are left in silence to eat out meals. Nothing is said and when we finish we are left to get ready on our own.

I don't waste time to get ready, and I don't think much as I do it. It won't help to get caught up in everything. I just need to walk with my family, meet with my friends, and get through today. It will be over before I know it.

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><p>I kiss my family goodbye before getting into the sign in line. I'm playing with the trimming of my dress when I hear a familiar voice.<p>

"Ariel?" The female voice asks. I turn around to see my favorite redhead.

"Joan!" I say relieved to see a familiar face. I have to look up when talking to her; after all I stand at just 5'1 while she towers over me at 5'8.

She gives an empty shrug; even my headstrong friend is a bit humbled today.

"So how are you doing this fine day?" I ask trying to find humor in the glum day.

Joan rolls her eyes, "very funny."

"What's so funny?" And that would make three, I smile at the approach of Cole, his neat black hair gelled to perfection. He gives me a mild smile, I've known for a while now the shy and quiet boy has had the slightest crush on me but there is no time for that sort of thing at the moment. It is still nice to see him here, he has always had a better appreciation of my humor.

"Just a bunch of kids getting reaped." Joan says stubbornly, crossing her arms. Somehow I still manage a laugh as it becomes my turn to get my finger pricked. When its done I wait for the two of them before we walk towards the crowd of waiting children. Where Joan and I leave Cole to go to the female section.

We wait with the other eighteen year olds upon arrival for the reaping to begin.

"They can't find my dog!" A girl from my grade says. I shift a bit. Why do I feel guilty? It wasn't me; I don't kill dogs that actually belong to people. Not that many people own dogs here. Even if I did I keep those things secret, I'm careful. Its always just small animals from the forest (except for the first time that is), regardless I don't want anyone to find me unstable.

Because I am stable, it might sound bad. But it keeps my emotions in check. When I kill a bird or a squirrel, who really cares? It relieves my stress; I don't do it because I _like_ it really, only when things get bad.

"Welcome, welcome!" The cheery voice of the District Seven escort echoes through the Town Center and bring me back to reality.

After going through eighteen years of watching reapings, I don't bother to pay attention anymore; all I care about is when she goes to pull the names. Everything leading up just wastes my time.

My heart is racing and I feel Joan's hand reach for mine, we squeeze each other's hand in anticipation. Joan, Cole, and I are all eighteen. I feel like I have so many people to worry about. Even if Joan can be annoying I don't want her to get reaped, she is one of my best friends.

"Wasn't that a wonderful video?" The escort says, when the video is over, she herself seems excited to pick the first tribute. "Now onto the selection!"

Come on already.

"Girls first!" She says before clattering her way over to the round bowl for females. So many names, why would mine be picked?

Her manicured fingers pick a small slip of paper. I can't be mine. It won't be.

"Ariel Morris."

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><p><strong>Alder Elm, 16<strong>

I feel my skin brush up against various people I recognize from school as I push my way to find my brother. In the process of signing in I seemed to have lost him. Spore is eighteen, but always seem to be getting lost still, always unfocused.

Many that is why I'm so focused at times like this, I have to be.

This is his last reaping, so I can understand the reason this year behind the chaos with him. He is determined that this will be the year he is reaped.

With all this worry about him getting reaped it has me thinking of myself getting reaped, it would be ironic in a twisted way. My fingers curl when I think about getting reaped because I wouldn't stand a chance. Too faithful, too weak and gullible.

I'm not even good enough to be of any help with the District. Everyone here works from an early age and by my age handles the labor easily, unless they are rich enough to not work. Not that I'm so poor I need to support my family, but the money helps greatly. And everyone here works young, but my job is a joke. Everyone knows it. I never could handle an axe like some people in my grade.

They all know it, the people at my school. My mother tries to give me reassuring thoughts on it but I know better. A mother is a mother; she always will try to tell me things like that to make me feel better. My father tries to not give his opinion on it; I know he is slightly disappointed. Not that he would ever let it show. At least Spore can handle an axe.

"Alder!" I hear my brother's voice from behind and turn around as his hand finds my shoulder. I find comfort when I walk into the Reaping with my brother. Even when I know in a few seconds we will separate to go with our different age groups.

Walking with Spore, I can feel the panic radiate from his body, his fingers twitching.

We pass by a few people in my class, they all looked so somber. Everything feels so grim, which I guess is better than if we were excited for two children from home to die. We aren't District Two.

I just hate seeing people I know so, _sad. _

I hate thinking they could be reaped.

I hate thinking I could be reaped.

"You doing okay Alder?" Spore asks, his green eyes much like my own stare intently at me. If it weren't for his mature appearance you would never guess he is eighteen.

I give a comforting smile to my older brother and squeeze his shoulder. "Are you?"

"Are we ever?" Spore asks and I feel as if he didn't just mean the two of us but a wider range of people, it makes me feel connected to the rest of the District. We all could be reaped. Even the rich kids that don't need to put in their names more than necessary, those slips with their names are still in there.

"I guess not," I answer solemnly as the separation with age and gender start to form. I find myself having to leave Spore. We don't say goodbye because neither of us are good with such things, so we just give each other a reassuring smile before we go with our age groups.

It isn't that I don't have many friends my age to be with, because I'm actually pretty friendly. I just find comfort in my closest family and my own thoughts. I see the Pine family twins in front of me and we exchange silent hellos with each other before we look to the stage.

"Welcome, welcome." The escort chimes. Ironic she welcomes us when she is the guest. "Now like always we have a very wonderful video straight from the Capitol, to explain the necessity that is the Hunger Games!" Her smile stretches when she says Hunger Games. I think she is slightly psychotic, not because she is from the Capitol. She just seems extra bloodthirsty, even for someone like her. It is unsettling. Sometimes I think she would want to be in our places.

The thought of her with cherry red lipstick murdering teenagers disturbs me. So I focus to the video but it disturbs me just as much. When a twelve year-old's dead body flashes on the screen the escort gives an extra toothy smile.

"Wasn't that a wonderful video?" She asks, almost happy it is over. The escort twirls a strand of her orange wig and makes her way to the bowls. "Girls first!" Like always. My mind wonders who it could be, even though I'm not at risk I somehow find myself unable to breathe. Well it be a friend? Or someone I know from school?

"Ariel Morris!" At first the name sounds unfamiliar but when a short and athletic looking girl steps out from the eighteen year-old girl section, I recognize her. I don't think her and Spore are too close, but I'm pretty sure they have had a few classes together. I look to Spore and watch him to see if he looks upset. He looks too focused on his own fate to even notice the girl.

Well at least she is older I guess, also she looks athletic. She could stand a chance. I don't want to jinx anything, but I wish her luck in my head.

When she is on the stage I go back to my state of parallelization as the escort introduces Ariel before making her way to the male's bowl.

Please not Spore.

Please not me.

Hell, please not even be one of the Pine twins.

I've never been too lucky.

"Alder Pine!"

No, it can't be. It can't.

But it so can.

I must look rather shell-shocked because the Peacekeepers look ready to come and drag me to the stage themselves, so I get moving. I feel as if I hear Spore saying something and just pray it won't get him in trouble. My heart might break through my ribcage.

I think it might.

My lungs intake too much oxygen and I begin to hyperventilate, the Peacekeeper behind me guiding me a bit. I'm a mess and millions of people are judging me.

Who cares?

I try my best not to die as I get onto the stage. I look to Ariel and in a moment of selfishness I suddenly wish she didn't look so athletic.

We exchange eye contact but looking away quickly.

One of us is going to die.

Or maybe both.

I'm going to die.

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><p>First real chapter! So there is still a ton of tributes needed, but I just picked Seven to write to get more people to see it and keep things going. I think ten will be next or maybe if three or five get their males then them.<p>

So for those around at the moment I would love some feedback. Ariel is created by TheBunnyLordisHere and Alder is my own (don't worry he isn't making it far, I just wanted to get out a chapter and needed a male.)

THE PLAN:

About six reaping chapters, three goodbyes, and three train chapters. Then things will be in the Capitol and from there on it will be about six random POVS per chapter. So all the information is on my profile for those just tuning in. Along with what spots are open!

Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3 D4 Reaping: Seeing Rainbow

_**Chapter Four: Seeing Rainbow**_

_**District Four**_

_** Kayman Demont, 18**_

My fingers shove the keys back into my pocket as soon as I hear the door lock. I always am the one to lock up the store before the Reaping, it's a pointless little tradition. The sun seems extra bright today, and I can already feel a drop of sweat falling down my cheek. I love this weather, just not when I'm in my fancy dress clothes.

"Are you ready dear?" My mother asks me. I nod and turn around to join my family. Next year things will be different. It unsettles me a little thinking about it but it quickly disappears as I replace the slight anxiety with a smile. Today shouldn't be any more different than any other day.

We always walk to the Town Center on reaping days. The bait shop is pretty close so it makes sense. I walk between my mother and brother, my grandfather trails behind us. His face in a permanent scowl, every since that letter came he hasn't been in a pleasant mood. He hates the Games, he hates that I train, and now he hates that I'm going to volunteer. But they sent the letter, and now nothing can stop it.

I should've expected it. I'm eighteen and have been training since I was nine. Not that I even love the Games, it just has been apart of my life.

When I was nine I trained because I disliked that my family was always lower middle class when everyone else seemed filthy rich.

My grandfather is a kind man; he just hates the Hunger Games and my training. My father hated my training too, but he is gone now. I don't like to think about it, with how it happened I definitely don't want to think about it today. I just need to keep positive like always.

My brother, Kent, seems just the tad bit nervous. He knows what I plan on doing and I think it makes the sweet boy nervous. His freckled face is crinkled in thought. But he knows that I am capable of winning, I've helped him train.

"Don't be nervous," I tell the thirteen year-old.

Kent looks up at me wiping the look from his face upon realization I noticed it. "I'm just worried."

"Why? Even if you get reaped I'm volunteering. Everything is going to be fine." I tell him.

He nods, "just be careful okay?"

"I will. I wouldn't be doing this if I thought it was hopeless." I say to him.

"You could still change your mind." My grandfather says from behind us. I stop walking to look back at him. He has stopped walking and his face looks desperate. The Town Center is so close now we can see it, of course now he needs to bring this up.

My mother is quick to the rescue. "Dad not now." She says before pushing her brown hair behind her ear. It is the same shade as my own.

"If not now then when?" My grandfather asks.

"They sent the letter, I was chosen. If I don't volunteer who will? What if the person that is reaped is young? Or not trained, they will die. I could win Grandpa." I say. I tower over him by so much; after all I'm pretty much the tallest in the District. But my grayed grandfather stands up so tall to me.

"What if you die? Then what? Your mother doesn't need to lose another man in her life because of this nonsense." He says.

I bite my lips, and my mother interferes.

"That is enough, the Games had nothing to do with it; and this is no place to be talking about this." She says and the conversation is over.

We don't talk for the rest of the trip. When we arrive, Kent and I say goodbye to Mom and Grandpa before getting checked in. I look one last time at my grandpa and make a mental note to make up during Goodbyes. I refuse to leave on a bad note.

In line I look around for Stryder, and find him waiting with the other seventeen year-olds. When he notices me looking, he walks over. His black hair glistens in the bright morning sun.

"And how is our fine volunteer doing today?" He says smirking. He has another year to go. He is thinking about volunteering.

"Ready for my Capitol makeover," I joke back. With both share a smile. Somehow cracking jokes today doesn't seem as bad when I know that no boy from the District unwillingly will have to be reaped today. It isn't like this is my dream come true, but I'm choosing this fate. It makes the day less depressing.

We kid with each other in the line before Kent and I get checked in. Stryder and I walk Kent over to where he is supposed to be before we separate ourselves into our own age groups.

The reaping begins quickly and our escort takes the stage. He is one of the few male escorts; he is fashioned this year with dark eyeliner and a giant rainbow Mohawk. _Compensating for anything? _I chuckle at my own joke and for it get looks from a few around me because of the random outburst.

The reaping video is played, the mayor announced. Mayor talks and escort kisses the Capitol's butts. Nothing unusual, nothing ever changes at these things. Sometimes the amount of Victors on the stage or maybe the escort, that is about it.

"Now for our female tribute!"

"Clarity Gregory!" I recognize the name. She is a seventeen year-old from school. Never really knew her, just know the name. Will this be my tribute partner?

She emerges from the crowd, but very quickly a hand pops out from the crowd.

"I volunteer!" I expected as much, the training center has expanded greatly recently.

A redheaded girl walks forward from the eighteen year-old section. Her face looks stoic and unchanging. She has sort of a pixie looking face and her hair stands out. My tribute partner. I get small shivers from thinking about it, a bit of anxiety and a bit of anticipation.

She gets onto the stage and introduces herself as Lillibel Clavenzez, eighteen. She scans the male section, she must be wondering who it is going to be. I know I would if I was up there. Hell, I would be placing bets. Strangely I see the girl give a strange look, but I'm unsure why. Was she sleepwalking and all of a sudden realize where she was? No time to worry about it.

Well here it comes.

"Now for our male tribute!" The escort says. I give him the name Mohawk-guy in my head. I can learn his name later. "Celeste Whales." I search for the person, with my height advantage; I'm able to see the thirteen year-old looking for someone to volunteer. Someone almost always does. Time to relax his nerves.

"I volunteer!"

* * *

><p><strong><em>District Four<em>**

**_Lillibel Clavenzez, 18_**

Keep quiet, focus, focus. I can feel my heart racing as I try to cool myself down. I can't help but be nervous, in a way it helps me control. It helps me focus in on things around me. What people are doing, the twitches in their bodies from nerves, their small talk.

And when I am focusing on others it allows me to take a moment away from thoughts of volunteering. Because worrying about it is pointless. I'm eighteen and trained, this is what is going to happen and it will be a good thing.

I can picture the gold crown that will mean safety. It will mean a life away from worry and struggle. I will never have to work except for mentoring duties and my mother- my mother will be safe. That gives me shivers. No more worrying about her being imprisoned.

That kind of security and protection comes from one thing, money. Lucky enough for me the Games can provide that for the rest of my life.

It took me a while to understand that, but when I did I never looked back from this plan. At first I trained incase I was reaped. Here I am, eighteen and I have yet to been reaped. So now I volunteer. Our escort, Pharaoh, takes the stage with his over-the-top Mohawk. It's rainbow.

Who has time to style that thing constantly? The Capitol I guess.

The reaping begins and I find myself searching the crowd surrounding the area roped off for those able to be reaped. I find my mother quickly. Even in her early forties she manages to have still white blonde hair and a pretty face. I've been told I look much like her. Just with red hair and a bit more blue-grey eyes than her blue eyes.

When I watch her standing with her closest friend and the woman's son, Everest, I'm reminded why I want that money. For her. I see Everest realize my eyes are on the three of them and he gives me a comforting look. He knows. I told him first, he is nineteen and safe from being reaped. We grew up like siblings.

I turn my attention back towards the stage, my anxiety now extinguished; I don't want to miss my chance.

"Now onto our female tribute!" Pharaoh says. I wonder who will be reaped. I take a moment to consider the irony if I were to be reaped. In a way it would be unfortunate, someone else could volunteer. Then I'd be, well, screwed.

"Clarity Gregory." I take a second to consider what to do next. If I did it too quickly will I look anxious?

No I can't loose my chance, now or never.

I see a seventeen year-old walk slowly out. She looks around, obviously hoping for someone to volunteer. I don't recognize her from training. I guess this is her lucky day.

Raising my hand, I walk out from the line of eighteen-year-old girls.

"I volunteer!" I say loudly, not wanting to go unheard. Now the mayor is looking at me and even Pharaoh is looking at me; actually everyone is looking at me. The weight of this split-second action sets in and I know this is what I want to do. Time to show the cameras that. Not too confident, not too passive.

I find my way to the stage. Pharaoh helps me up. His eyeliner is so dark. I wouldn't even wear that much makeup and I'm a girl.

"Well, well we have a volunteer!" Pharaoh chimes. As if he is so surprised. Four doesn't always have as many volunteers as District Two, but lately we have always managed two volunteers. "Your name honey?" He asks.

I step towards the microphone, "Lillibel Clavenzez and I'm eighteen." I say.

He giggles and I feel his cold, soft hand pick up a strand of my hair. "Such a beautiful color." He says quietly. I wonder if anyone sees, I think some on the stage saw the peculiar interaction but if anyone in the crowd saw it they didn't seem to care. Is this normal for Capitol people?

I look back to the group of three. Everest doesn't look scared; he prepared himself. My mother looks a little off. She knew on her own. I never had to tell her. She is smart like that. It is how she has survived.

My mother raised me on her own, my father leaving her when discovering her pregnancy. What a loser. It made Mom and I stronger though. Now I am done with my mother's struggle. Her business… it is a difficult subject. It isn't legal, to be blunt. No she isn't some prostitute but she does sell illegal goods. A heavy sort of alcohol not allowed in the Districts. I think the country before Panem had a name for it.

It is why I grew up knowing just Everest, his mother is the same. I had to isolate myself. Safety. It is why I still get nervous each and every time I see a Peacekeeper glance my way. And there is a lot of them looking at me right now.

"Now for our male." Pharaoh says leaving me to remove myself from the center of the stage. As if he has already moved on from me. He picks a slip of paper, but he must know whoever is on that paper won't be standing next to me.

"Celeste Whales." I look for my possible tribute partner, and if so, likely ally. The tributes from Four almost always ally and often with the tributes from One and Two too. The boy picked shocks me, thirteen year-old. Rare but it happens. Someone will definitely volunteer. Sometimes stuff like that encourages people training to volunteer, as if one final thing to make up their minds.

"I volunteer!" A strong voice calls out from the older section of males. I see the voice's owner quickly, _very _quickly. He stands basically a foot above everyone else. I recognize him from the training center. He is eighteen, and an obvious choice to volunteer. I don't know everyone from the training center but when you get someone so tall like him, it is hard to miss him. His name escapes me.

Maybe part of me should've expected him volunteering, with his obvious height advantage. But he is a bit lanky in figure. It might have thrown me off. I almost insult myself for not knowing more about him. He will be a good ally if he wishes, but when I stand at 5'6… Which isn't short, but he is over a foot taller than me. I'll have to outwit him, if it comes down to the two of us. Which I hope doesn't happen. Never looks good to kill someone from your District. And he doesn't look like too bad of a person.

Why can I not even remember his name? I like knowing all sorts of people, watching from the sidelines is my thing. Not knowing feels like some kind of flaw, a chink in my armor. I'm not perfect but I take pride in the things I can manage decent enough.

Without even knowing it, I'm staring. He catches my stare and looks straight back at me. Not to be intimidating, just as curious as myself. My hands find themselves moving on their own. Playing with my dress, keeping themselves occupied.

I need to focus, not get too out of it. Looking around I see all these familiar faces, who haven't probably even heard of me until today, suddenly all knowing my name. They see me and this will never change. This is my life now. I need to take it on and I need to work with it.

If I ever hope on getting out alive.

* * *

><p>District Four! What do you guys think of the tributes? The girl belongs to- walk off the moon and the male belongs to Infamouskal40.<p>

So a little bit more of a delay than wanted but I needed to find a District that had both, because I'm doing this by District and naturally a lot of people submit females. Which is fine, I get it. I do the same XD But yeah so a little tip, if you want to see your character have a chapter sooner than later and want to submit a male I suggest submitting to a District with a female already.

Lately things have been busy but things are really dying down and I just made my own little map of the Arena and got super excited for this story.

No lie, I am really happy with the tributes. So far there are no tributes I dislike. Sometimes in the past (no offense) I have had to made tributes sort of work for me, not because they were bad but because I had trouble with them and writing them. So far no problems :)

Next chapter to be District Ten.

Every chapter I will be doing Arena hints, so this is the first!

ARENA HINT #1:  It will have lots of trees


	4. Chapter 4 D10 Reapings: Dazed & Confused

**_District Ten Reapings: Dazed and Confused_**

**_District Ten_**

**_Olive Colston, 15_**

* * *

><p>I had another nightmare. It was different than usual. The images of the red meat and blood still cloud my mind. I always have nightmares. It shouldn't affect me. It usually doesn't, but I hoped for a pleasant dream just this one day. Or none at all. There are enough horrors beyond nightmares today.<p>

My feet feel cold against the wood flooring of my room. I stand in front of my mirror as I braid my hair into twin French braids on each side of my head. It makes me look younger but it keeps my hair back, and that is all I really want. My eyes have dark circles under them that stand out extra well against my pale skin. Even though I've come accustomed to the nightmares it still has its negative affects on me. I've gotten over it.

For the reaping I'm wearing the nicely sewn blue dress my father had made for me. He is a tailor for the District so I was always fortunate enough to have a new dress for the Reaping. That is more than most. The baby blue compliments my blue-gray eyes. Or so my parents tell me.

When I'm changed, I leave my closet-sized room to enter the living room. Our home is small but I love it, and being an only child I don't have to share my room. The two-bedroom house is attached to the tailor's store my family owns and operates. With no one working for us, it is just the three of us. Simple and even a little bit dull but it's my life. Not everyone can have livestock; we still need the necessaries of a society.

My working time is mostly spent at the counter, helping people. It's a little lonely, sometimes my parents urge me to get out and hang out with other people my age. I just never minded this lifestyle. It isn't self-pitying or depressing, it is just how I prefer things.

I do have one friend, a pitiful number I know, an eighteen year-old male named Lloyd whose family owns the store next door. He always has an excuse to be in the store. I could kick him out for loitering around the store but he is good company.

"Mother?" I ask the empty room. The house is fairly small; I can't imagine why I can't find the two. They must be in the store. I walk through the door separating the store from the house to find the two talking. At first it doesn't seem to be an important discussion until I see the worry in my mother's eyes. I don't question it, not today.

"Ready to go?" I ask. My parents are quick to look normal, in attempts to elude my suspicion, and I pretend to be clueless.

"Of course, we're going to be late if we don't leave soon." My father says, he is a kind and hard-working man, but he enjoys his punctuality. My mother is much more easy-going.

"I'm ready," I say. We lock up the store, even with everyone being at the reaping, and join the numerous other families doing the dreadful walk to the middle of the District. Some people have a much longer distance to travel; lucky for us we are rather close. This is the worst part, after the reaping it gets a little better. Unless you knew the person who got reaped.

I never have known the person before, maybe just recognized their face or knew their friend. But I'm still so young, and not stupid enough to doubt the power the Games can have. No matter how much you try to disconnect yourself from it, you can never truly ignore its existence.

Because as soon as you do it will come from behind, and snatch you up.

* * *

><p>"You barely have your name in that bowl, what is it? Eight?" Lloyd asks me as we stand close together in the roped off section.<p>

"Seven," A little frustrated how close he was to the real number. I was lucky for that number and should be proud of it, but right now it only proves him right.

"See? You will be fine; my name is in there Fifteen times. Even that is nothing, some people have their names in there thirty times" He is trying to calm me down. We met up soon after my family left the store and then walked the rest of the way down here. His green eyes are rather calm, while my blue ones are panicked. I don't understand how he is so collected. I admire that about him.

"It only takes one slip of paper." I say.

"You will be fine."

"Don't jinx me," I say feeling a bit paranoid.

"Okay fine, I give up. Just try not to get too worked up, okay?" He asks and I nod. If anything I should be worried for him, his name is there double the times mine is.

Soon I see the escort walk onto the stage and know we need to separate now. We quickly exchange goodbyes and he gives me a quick peck on the top of my head. It shocks me. When he walks away I can still feel the pressure on my head where he did it. But it isn't in any romantic way, even if he were to like me that way; it was in a brotherly way.

I bite my lips nervously and find my place in the crowd silently.

When the escort and mayor speak I listen extra carefully, as if their words will be my salvation. I just want this to be over, it is always dragged on so long. The video this year is the same as always but each year seems to go slower and slower.

When the escort finally takes over the microphone again, I prepare myself for her to choose someone, someone in this crowd. It will be the girl first, it almost always is. Unless the escort tries to be unique.

"Lets get the fun started!" The escort says, her accent already bothering me.

She picks a slip of paper from one of the bowls. "And the female tribute is…" She unfolds the piece of paper. Her long nails having trouble. _Come on already. _I think anxious. "Olive Colston."

The color disappears from my skin and I refuse to breathe, it sounded a bit strange at first with her accent but it was not Olivia Colston or Olive Calston, it was Olive Colston she just read out.

By instinct I look to the male's section to find my one friend looking ready to do something awfully stupid. I don't want to move, so the Peacekeepers come for me. The crowd around me has given up my location up. I just stare at Lloyd. No tears, no whimpers, no anything. On either of my sides, a Peacekeeper grabs my arms and leads me to the stage.

"No!" I hear Lloyd shout, I always liked his extroverted personality but right now he really needs to shut up.

I swallow quickly and shake off the Peacekeepers to walk up on my own. This is my destiny now and I can't change this.

The escort is staring at me with her bright pink eyes, stupid colored contacts. She holds out her hand for me to grab, I give in and take her cold hand. She pulls me onto the stage and I feel my life here end.

"Introducing Olive Colston!"

* * *

><p><strong>District Ten<strong>

** Felix Weston, 17 **

* * *

><p>I stare down at the clothing laid out on my bed. I had just finished bathing and came to my room to find them here. The usual reaping outfit and it's new. I know I need to wear it; it would be a waste if I didn't. It isn't that my family can't afford it, because we can. Well my stepdad can. My mother hasn't worked a day in her pretty little life.<p>

My disgust with wearing it isn't even that I'm too good for it, I just hate saying I can't wait to be independent and live on my own and then take all the things she tries to give me. It would simply be hypocritical.

After an internal debate, I give in and put on the clothing she got for me like a good little boy. It angers me. There never was a chance was there?

I move on and try not to focus to on how I yet again fell into my mother's wishes, but I can't let it go. It won't leave my mind. It goes on replay. Over and over. I get ready in anger. It takes little time. Nothing really to do, but by the end I am left bitter with the day. Bitter with the usual things and bitter with the fact I have to go to the reapings. I never cared much about the Games. Not really appreciating the concept, but something about it had me morbidly curious. The same feeling I get at work, not joy. A curiosity.

* * *

><p>The reapings have come. I didn't spend much time at the house luckily, but I had to come to the Town Center with my mother and my stepfather. I've tried to get along with them and things never works. I think I just need someone to be angry with, to keep my brain churning. I guess that is why I hate the Capitol. The hate fuels me. The two of them are just so easy to hate.<p>

I don't hate everything. I look over the aisle that separates males and females to find Annabelle, my twin sister. We've been told our brown hair, green eyes, and pale skin identical. We aren't identical twins of course, but we've been told we are the female and male versions of each other. As far as looks go. She is much more kind, sociable, non-judgmental, and overall more normal. She's the perfect kind of normal. It just reminds me to not allow my issues with my home life to become an excuse with the way I am. The way I feel, my anger and the things no one knows about. I tell most things to Annabelle, because she helps me make the most moral decisions. But some things I can't let her know, her idea of me too fragile already for me to say anything to make her hate me.

If Annabelle hates me I don't know what I would do.

I much rather be reaped.

Annabelle stands next to her best friends. They are close together and seem to be holding hands. Why can't I believe things like that? That if I close my hands and hope hard enough that everything will be fine. It wouldn't even calm me down.

"Lets get the fun started!" The escort says as she takes the stage. Everything goes the usual way, and I spend the time wondering who is going to get reaped. I think about how many times each person must have their names in there and so on. But we all have our names in there; some people are just in there more than others. I'm not nervous when the escort goes to pick the female tribute, I never get nervous. But then I'm reminded of Isabelle. I take a moment to think if she were reaped

Whatever happens, happens. Praying with friends doesn't calm me down so I just don't allow myself to get worked up about it.

"And the female tribute is…" The escort seems to like the way everyone holds their breath when she does this. I can't help but share in her joy. The emotions feel so real, so full of anticipation. Yet I feel something else too, almost jealous in the way they value life so much.

Some wish to be numb during these times, and I dread it. Am I heartless? Maybe so.

"Olive Colston!" It isn't Annabelle. She must be relieved, even with someone still dying. I'm tall, but not enough to tower over the rest. I see the girls looking to someone. A guy from behind me shouts something that I don't hear it. A Peacekeeper goes for her and I get my first look at her.

She looks fifteen or sixteen. Her hair is a light blonde and her skin icy pale. She is fairly short. Maybe a few inches over five feet. Some might not see her as beautiful, her face not flawless. Dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep that stand out with her blue-grey eyes. Her face edged and sharped. She stands out in a peculiarly pretty way. I watch her. I guess everyone is also.

Two peacekeepers seem to guide her a little bit of the way. She looks over in the male's direction, to someone. But who? A brother? Friend? Boyfriend? It must be whoever shouted before. She removes herself from the grasp of the Peacekeepers. Standing a moment to gather herself, before walking up to the stage on her own.

She stands in such contrast to the brightness of the escort. Who takes her hand, Olive does nothing but look uncomfortable.

It feels strange to call her by her name, as if I know her. I tend to do that a lot. I guess that makes me a creep. What an ugly title.

"Felix Weston" That rips me back into reality. When did she even pick a slip?

I adjust my shoulders and neck before walking up, should I be panicked? I'm not happy, no matter how curious I can get at work; this isn't elating to me. I don't know how to feel, I'm just shocked. Lost and confused. I have been so numb to the idea and now it is here. I walk up and look back at Annabelle. Her face tears me apart. She is one of the rare people that can make me so emotional. She knows it, the entire District knows after what happened last year.

I don't bother to look to mother and _him. _He must be happy to have me out of the picture. Instead of turning into a mess because of Isabelle or becoming angry from seeing his smug look, I turn my attention to the stage. Olive and the escort are staring to me. The escort, still holding Olive's hand, holds out her hand to pull me up the stairs. Those pink eyes watching me like some kind of cotton candy demon. I don't take it until I'm on the stage. The three of us stand together and the escort introduces us, her voice never so close. I can smell her perfume. It reeks.

"Our District Ten tributes!" She says letting go of our hands. Now we need to shake each other's hands. No one says it but we both know. We turn to look at each other; her features I examined from afar now up close. The girl who was supposed to just be another girl to die from my District is now my District Partner. The guy just supposed to die from Ten is now me.

I don't know how to handle that.

Who does? Maybe she looks at me in the same way, her knowing eyes trying to figure me out. Does it matter? We shake hands.

* * *

><p>District Ten! Yay! And just eight more spots to be filled :) I'm getting all excited planning things and decided to just give a small run down on my plans.<p>

5 Reaping chapter (or six)

2 Goodbye chapters

5 Train Ride chapters (or four)

These will be for each District, and introduction to each character. After that it will be longer chapters with many random POVS from different tributes. What the plan is at the moment:

Chariot Rides, Training Day one, Training Day Two, Training Day Three, Private Sessions and scores, Interviews, Moments before Games

So seven or eight Capitol chapters about :)

ARENT HINT #2- Will have Fall weather (so leaves already fallen, and chilly but not freezing)


	5. Chapter 5 D3 Reaping: Gray Skies

**District Three Reapings:**

**Aven Runestone,15**

Beyond the horizon I can see the dark clouds rolling in, cloaking the already smoky District in a depressing tone. Better than things being sunny, because then the weather feels out of place. Why try to deny the truth?

"Come on Aven we're going to be late." My sister, Summer, says sounding annoyed. She always gets this way today. Unlike me, she is rather popular at school, so she has so many people to worry about. Annoying or not I love her, especially with what has gone on the last year. She has proven she loves me back. Regardless of anything.

More than most people have done.

"I'm coming," I say before adjusting my clothing once more in the mirror, my green eyes spotting themselves in the mirror, and I pat down my wavy black hair to sit more neatly.

I might not have as many still by my side as my sister, but the ones I have I value. When I think of myself getting reaped I feel faint, when I imagine my sister or my two bestfriends getting reaped? I think I might actually faint. They've proven their loyalty to me.

When I was fourteen I finally confessed what I knew for so long, what everyone must have known in the back of their heads. People like to push that kind of stuff back, lie to themselves. I think my mother knew, maybe it made it easier for her to accept it. When I confessed I was gay at fourteen, my mother took it fine and so did my sister. That is why I can't help but love them so much. My father?

He couldn't take it.

I tumble down the stairs quickly to find my blonde sister and mother waiting for me. My sister folds her arms stubbornly but seems relieved that I'm at least ready.

"Well what are we waiting for?" I ask,trying to give a pitiful smile to make up for running them late. The smile doesn't work well today.

"Nothing anymore," my sister says but gives me a loving smile. How could you argue on days like today? I mean if something were to happen…

We partake in small talk when leaving the house. The street is full of familiar faces that all are going to the same location. I enjoy my family's company of course but after we reach the end of the street I start looking around for my friends. I know they will be going this way. I'm anxious to meet up with them. I hate the idea of standing one moment in that Town Center without someone by my side. Does that sound needy? Maybe, I just like the idea of facing things with friends.

When we reach the Town Center I finally see them. They seem to have already met up with each other. Bolt and Lanni stand looking around, for me? That makes me happy. I didn't always just have the two of them, until last year. Everyone else left and then it was just them, in the end it feels like it was always that way. The rest didn't really care, or they wouldn't have left.

I see Summer has found her friends in the crowd as well, I guess this is where we split up. Summer and I turn to my mother who is giving us a sad looking smile. We all give each other long embraces before we say goodbye and even good luck. As if luck can save you.

"I love you two, no matter what." My mother says before my sister and I get into the check in line.

"You're fine right?" She asks me randomly.

"No more than any other reaping." I say honestly to her. "Are you?"

"I guess," she says as uneasily as me.

I put my hand on her shoulder, "It will be fine." Can I promise that?

She nods, but doesn't respond.

By the time I'm checked in Bolt and Lanni have made their way over to me. Some people look at us, everyone seems to know what happen. They all know that pretty much everyone I thought loved me left. They think I have a crush on either Bolt or Lanni, or maybe both. Some people think we're all lovers, even though Bolt and Lanni never said they were gay. And that would be creepy.

People just like to spread rumors. That just makes them human. But it sure does push me away.

"How are you doing?" Bolt asks, he looks nervous. I don't blame him, he should be worried most out of all of us. His family is rather poor, I mean most of Three is but he always has his names in there so much. I took two tessarae for him, what else should I do? He has been there for me and I need to be there for him. If Lanni were in the same situation I would do the same for him.

"I'm fine, you guys?" I ask.

"Honestly I'm terrified," Lanni says suddenly.

We give him comfort but there isn't much we can do, we can't change what is about to happen.

* * *

><p>"Now for our male tribute!" The escort sings. I stand close to my friends. The girl tribute was already picked. A girl, Astrid. She is so young. You would never tell by looking though. She is so tall, but she seems skittish. She could just be nervous of course. I feel bad for her, but I always feel bad for the tributes.<p>

Astrid stands nervously watching the escort as she picks a slip of paper. My heart breaks for the young girl. Even though she is just two years youngers than me.

"Bolt Hadley."

What? I can't believe I've heard it right but when all eyes are pointed to Bolt, who stands behind me paralyzed, I know. I know that he was reaped and that something has to happen. In a moment of panic Bolt looks to Lanni and I. Coward, I'm a coward. Bolt has given up so much for me and now I'm going to let him walk onto that stage. Bolt walks slowly forward as if accepting no one is going to help him.

I watch him die, in my head, I watch him get slaughtered. I can't bear it. The thought becomes too much, anything but him dying. No, I won't let it happen. I won't let myself be a coward.

"I volunteer!" I say running forward to push Bolt backwards. I've never been so loud before, my voice reaching a volume I didn't know I had. For a moment I'm relieved. The frightful images of Bolt's death in some Arena are gone. I don't feel so cowardly anymore.

But when Bolt looks to me with a new look in his eyes and it seems everyone is now staring at me I recognize the look. It is the look I gave Bolt not too long ago, and Astrid too. They are looking at a dead man walking.

* * *

><p><strong>District Three<strong>

**Astrid Eldridge, 13**

My fingers tap impatiently against my legs, my eyes wandering to each face in front of me. I let out an easy breath and try to calm my mood down, but it never works. Even when I'm not faced with a random death lottery I can never calm down. Always the one bouncing off the walls. They call it ADHD.

They say I can't help it, just how I was born. As if there is something wrong with me in the brain, an illness. I know that is true and it is why I shouldn't be hard on myself for it, but somehow it makes me feel trapped when it comes to fix the problem. So usually I just give up, even at times when my clustered mind has gotten me into trouble around the District. Even enough to be whipped once, but the scars have faded. I don't think about it, not enough time.

I find my parents in the adult and young child crowd and then look to my friend, Saffron, who stands beside me. Then my eyes flutter towards where my brother stands. He looks nervous; this is his first year after all. I can remember what it was like last year. I was a mess.

I've told my brother I hate him before but I've told more times that I love him. No matter how many times we argue, or how sometimes I can't help but get upset when Dad favorites him or when he doesn't want to go on adventures with me, I still would hate for him to be reaped his first time.

Neither can I imagine get reaped for my second time here, or Saffron. I look back to her as the Capitol video plays, how could I ever focus on that boring nonsense? Saffron's golden hair shines even in this grey weather. My mind takes particularly keen focus to it. She sees me looking and gives me a reassuring nod; does she see how nervous I am? She never was the sharpest here in District Three, though I'm not either. Well for District Three, where there is a large supply of geniuses. I like to think if I didn't have ADHD and weren't in District Three I would be smart. Unfortunately I do live around hundreds of geniuses and I do have ADHD.

Ugh, I need to focus.

I force myself to pay my attention back towards the stage. The escort is drabbling on and on about the video. She is new for the District, she got moved up I heard. I forget from which District, and to be honest don't really care. Maybe she is doing some kissing up to the Capitol to get another promotion.

As she begins to repeat herself in her long speech, my eyes wander towards the crowd again. I spot my father standing besides my mother. He looks so unemotional, while my mother looks sad. They both can be strict but my mother has a much stronger caring side unlike my father. I guess that is why he prefers my brother so much, he knows I can't help but be this way, he just still likes my brother better. My brother is normal, doesn't get in trouble or anything. Most of the time he is just at home being normal.

"So beyond all that, let's move onto picking our tributes." The escort says. I demand myself to focus on the stage only, determinedly staring the colorful woman down. She picks out a slip of paper and carefully unfolds it. She takes a moment to look at the name before saying it. My hearts stops beating.

"For our female tribute we have…" I can't breathe. "Astrid Eldridge."

I let out a breath when she reads a name but I'm not relieved. I'm frozen and my mind disappears into some dark pit of wild thoughts and memories. When I brought back to reality a Peacekeeper is dragging me along. In a moment of panic I push him off a rush forward to escape. But in my animal state I find myself fleeing towards the stage. When I'm met with the Peacekeepers guarding the stairs I look at both of them shaking, my eyes going back and forth to the two of them. The escort is waiting for me with her beady eyes.

No, no, please let me escape. Please let me out of this place. Why me? I want to be anywhere but here. I rather be back to the day I got whipped than be right here. But I am here, I can't escape. I'm trapped.

* * *

><p>My uneasy soul hasn't stopped fidgeting since I was placed on this awful stage, I feel close to hyperventilating. How could anyone maintain themselves in this moment? Suddenly every person I ever saw look collected up here that wasn't insane is my biggest hero. The escort is picking the male tribute now. Will they be mean? Nice? I wonder if they'll be tall, or short. What if it is my brother? Oh please not him, I couldn't live with that reality. I think I might just self-destruct.<p>

If I'm not going to already.

Why does this have to happen? Why to me?

My hand taps impatiently against my thigh. I must look like a bloodbath. My face crunches up so I think of all other things, but like always that thought still hangs in the corner of my mind whispered into my thoughts.

"Bolt Hadley." I search violently in the ground for the person. I don't recognize the name. I find a group of three people all staring at people. They look so heartbroken. I find myself staring with the rest of the District. One of the three moves forward, Bolt. He seems okay,

His friend stares with some sort of unrecognizable purpose, and before anyone knows it he is speaking from behind Bolt.

"I volunteer!" He runs forward, and Bolt stands there shocked. I find myself watching the volunteer as he makes his way to the stage. He looks panicked yet his footsteps are certain.

Our eyes connect; he really doesn't seem bad, if anything he seems nice. With the number of people leaving that Arena, I wish he didn't seem so kind.


	6. Chapter 6 Fear: Reboot

Hey guys, this is just a message to say I've rebooted this story with a whole new story with a whole new intro and everything. If anyone is still around and interested (I doubt it but just in case), you can PM me saying you want your character to be involved in the new story, original characters will have first preference!


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